inside the coach were pretty well scared.

"Driver!" said the Prince of the Road, coolly, after the laugh, "go
you to the passengers who grace this rickety shebang and take up a
collection. You needn't cum to me wi' less'n five hundred ef ye don't
want me to salt ye!"

Bowing humble obeisance, McGucken took off his hat, and made for the
stage door.

"Gentlemen!" he plead, "there is need o' yer dutchin' out yer dudads
right liberal ef ye've enny purtic'lar anticypation an' desire ter git
ter Deadwood ter-night. Dick, the Road-Agent, are law an' gospel
heerabouts, I spec'late!"

"Durned a cent'll I fork!" growled one old fellow, loud enough to be
heard. "I ain't afeerd o' all the robber Dicks from here ter
Jerusalum."

But when he saw the muzzle of the young road-agent's revolver gazing
in through the window, he suddenly changed his mind, and laid a
plethoric pocketbook into McGucken's already well-filled hat.

The time occupied in making the collection was short, and in a few
moments the Jehu handed up his battered "plug" to the Prince of the
Road for inspection.

Coolly Deadwood Dick went over the treasure, as if it were all
rightfully his own; then he chucked hat and all into one of his
saddle-bags, after which he turned his attention toward the stage. As